


Threefold

by GhostGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Snapshots, Wincestiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Castiel winds up in the Winchester's bed; he was invited, he fell into it, he was thrown onto it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threefold

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr anon prompt/request. Found on Tumblr under the same alias.

The first time, they invited him into their bed, and Castiel was nervous. Dean took him by the wrists and led him away from the door, and Sam’s broad palm settled comfortingly onto his shoulder as they sat him down on the edge of the king. They undressed him, taking layer after layer off until his skin met the cool night air. Castiel felt like they were stripping more than just fabric from him. They were baring him, right there on the sheets of just another dirty motel room, just for their eyes to see. It was the most raw experience he’s ever had in his thousands of years of existence, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The second time Castiel wound up in the Winchester’s bed, he more or less fell into it. Fighting a hoard of demons away was becoming more difficult, and he felt depleted. His wounds were healing slowly, and Castiel sought refuge in room number 9 at Sunny Acres Motel. His feet hit the carpeted floor as he landed and he staggered across the floor, towards the bed. He flopped onto it and passed out, deciding he didn’t care that his friends weren’t there at the time. By the time he came back to the world of the conscious, it was dark—probably the middle of the night. He was down to his boxers and his wounds were treated and wrapped with clean white bandages. Castiel felt heat radiating from all sides and cracked an eye open. He was immediately met by Dean’s sleeping face, mouth lax and all tension and worry gone from his face. Castiel glanced over his shoulder and spotted Sam in the light seeping in from the parking lot, also peacefully asleep. Both brothers had protectively flung their arms over him during the night.

The third time, Castiel didn’t so much fall into bed but rather was thrown onto it. The brothers had a rough hunt that day, escaping death by an inch or two like usual, and he mojo’d into their hotel room as soon as they dropped their duffles next to the door. After a jolt—when will they ever get used to someone suddenly appearing?—and a few seconds of recognition, Castiel was grabbed by four calloused hands, dragged across the room, and hoisted onto the bed. Sam settled behind him, a solid wall of muscle against his back, hands massaging his chest and teasing nipples through the cotton of Castiel’s dress shirt. He moaned when Sam viciously sucked purple bruises onto Castiel’s neck and shoulder as Dean worked on the button and zipper of his pants. When Castiel came, he didn’t know whose name to shout. So he said both.


End file.
